


Holy

by nihilistshiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, College Student Lance (Voltron), Dry Humping, Humiliation, M/M, Omorashi, Orgasm Denial, Priest Kink, Priest Shiro (Voltron), Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29017128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilistshiro/pseuds/nihilistshiro
Summary: Lance is home from university due to the pandemic, and he decides to spend some time at his childhood church to get away from the chaos of his parent's house. Little does he know that a devilish new priest is waiting for him.
Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	Holy

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS NAUGHTY AND I LOVE IT
> 
> The third collab I did with my lovely artist friend [Pink Contrail](https://twitter.com/pinkontrail) for Shance Kinkfest!

Lance was nervous, tugging the straps of his backpack as he passed through the massive oak doors to his childhood church. 

The lobby vestibule was dark, and Lance’s shoes sank into the squidgy blue carpet that he remembered playing on as a toddler. A lot changed since then. Lance grew up. Went off to college. Started a life of his own, away from his family.

At least he had until the pandemic hit and he’d been forced off campus and back into the bedroom he shared with his brothers.

Lance cracked the door to the main chapel, peeking inside.

“Hello?” His voice echoed around the empty hall, bouncing off of aged wooden pews and bright stained glass. “Is anyone here?”

Lance crept further inside, his sneakers squeaking on the floor. There were rows of candles flickering and casting shadows on the walls; the colorful windows threw speckled beams of gemstone light across his path.

The altar was simple—an elevated platform with an ornately carved table in the back. To one side was a lectern, which bore a particularly gruesome crucifix. Lance winced as he made eye contact with Jesus’s tortured expression. 

He pulled out his phone, tapping until he had the church’s directory listing to see if there was a number he could call. Lance’s palms were sweating, tongue sticking to the roof of his dry mouth. Maybe this was a dumb idea. He’d just been trying to find something to do—somewhere to go—that wasn’t his house. Anywhere but his house. 

Lance’s breath was hot and foggy inside his mask as he fumbled with the number, his thumbs slipping on the glass screen.

“Can I help you?”

Lance’s heart skidded to a stop in his chest, his stomach clenching as his eyes darted to find the source of the silky voice. They landed on a priest with snowy hair and the smile of an angel. He was so handsome that for a moment, all Lance could do was stare at him, eager to memorize every feature of his flawless complexion.

Well, almost flawless, Lance thought, his eyes landing on the pink scar slicing across the priest’s nose.

“I-I’m sorry, I was just... My name’s Lance, and I used to come here when I was little. I’m home from university and I just thought I could volunteer or something. Just, you know, get outta the house for a bit?” Lance was grateful that his mask hid the worst of his flush

He twisted the straps of his backpack, toeing at the ground.

“You should make eye contact with a man when you’re speaking to him,” the priest said in a husky voice, stepping into Lance’s personal space.

It should have been a red flag, given the mandate to maintain social distance, but Lance was frozen in place. His thighs trembled and Lance dragged his gaze up to…

“What’s your name, Father?” He could barely say the last word with a straight face, his insides practically melting as the priest’s scorching gaze took Lance apart.

Lance watched that sharp smile curve, the hairs on the back of his neck standing one end.

“You can just call me Shiro. And don’t be alarmed—I tested negative for the virus yesterday and you are my first visitor.”

The assurance did little to still Lance’s frantic heartbeat. 

“Oh. Good to know. Thanks.”

“So, you’re looking for a job?” Shiro asked, turning and walking down the main aisle.

Lance jogged after to keep up, although he didn’t mind the view of Shiro’s ass and thick thighs in his black pants. 

“You could say that,” Lance replied. “I don’t expect to be paid or anything. I just thought I could lend a hand. Maybe do some of my school work here. I have two sisters and two brothers at home and things can get pretty hectic.”

Shiro chuckled. “Hey, I get it. We all need some peace and quiet every once in a while. Follow me. I’ll show you around.”

“It’s weird, I used to come here all the time when I was a kid and this place hasn’t changed one bit.”

“Really?” Shiro held open the door to the kitchen and Lance passed through. “I guess I’m not surprised since it looks like the ’70s threw up in here.”

Lance found himself grinning beneath his mask, and he hoped Shiro could tell from the sparkle in his gaze. 

“I know it isn’t much, but we could really use some help in the kitchen. I’ve been trying to serve a community meal on Sundays after our last service, but clearly, I’m not cut out for this.”

Shiro waved his arm toward the counter, which was cluttered with half-clean dishes.

“Do you think you’d mind helping out here a few times a week? I know it’s not glamorous, but you can use the kitchen to do your school work and you can join us for all of the community meals. Only takeout or outdoor eating these days, of course.”

There was something about the priest’s gaze that drew Lance in like a magnet. His jeans tightened, sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. He felt the heavy gaze of Jesus from the portrait hanging on the wall of the kitchen and wished his thoughts would return from their erotic tangent.

“Lance?” Shiro asked when he didn’t answer.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah! I mean, uh, yeah, I could totally wash your dishes and stuff.”

Shiro chuckled, and the sound made Lance crack the first genuine grin he’d had since the lockdown started. 

“Good. Is now too soon to get started?”

“Not at all.”

Over the next few weeks, Lance went to the church almost every day. At first, he didn’t see much of the handsome young holy man, but Shiro always made sure to set a plate aside for Lance, and oftentimes he’d have a snack ready upon Lance’s arrival. Eventually, he and Shiro had their own quarantine bubble, and Lance felt comfortable taking his mask off. 

They fell into a happy routine. Lance cleaning and studying, Shiro accepting the occasional parishioner and doing his best to keep the elderly in the community fed. On occasion, Lance found himself staring at Shiro when he wasn’t looking, admiring the older man’s physique and patience.

Sometimes, Shiro would be staring back. 

One afternoon was particularly rainy, and by the time Lance arrived at the church, he was completely drenched. He took off his mask and stuffed it in his pocket, wiping his feet on the thick rug near the door.

“What happened to you?” Shiro asked, walking up the center aisle as Lance stepped inside the chapel.

“R-rain,” Lance replied, his teeth chattering. 

Shiro brushed a wet lock of hair from Lance’s face. “You’re freezing.”

Lance swallowed hard, Shiro’s warm fingertips lingering on his skin. They were standing so close, the soles of their shoes almost touched, water dripping from Lance’s backpack onto the floor. Shiro grabbed the strap, his fingers dipping beneath it to graze Lance’s chest through his damp shirt.

“Let me take this for you,” Shiro murmured, slipping the back from Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance took a step back, his eyes blue saucers as they started up at Shiro’s concerned expression. It wasn’t fair for a man that holy to be so sinfully attractive. 

“Thanks,” Lance replied. 

He expected Shiro to move away, but instead, he got closer, his free hand Lance’s trim waist. 

“You really shouldn’t be out in this storm,” Shiro said. “It’s dangerous.”

Lance’s tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. He could only watch as Shiro bent down, his lips landing on Lance’s mouth in a soft, chaste kiss. A whimper clawed its way up Lance’s throat, and he let his hands rest gently on Shiro’s broad chest.

Shiro’s tongue nudged against the seam of Lance’s lips, and Lance parted with a sigh, forgetting entirely that they were standing in the middle of the church in the middle of the day. The kiss was heaven. Each pass of Shiro’s velvet tongue sent flickers of heat to Lance’s core.

He wanted more and shame filled him as his erection grew in his pants. Lance knew the moment Shiro felt it, breaking away, his hand cupping Lance’s jaw.

“Did you like that?” he asked, his low voice matching the rolling thunder outside. 

He brushed Lance’s bottom lip with his thumb. Lance nodded, his cheeks stained pink. 

“That’s a good boy. Do you want more?”

“Y-Yes,” Lance stammered, his arousal almost painful in its intensity. 

Shiro gave him a wolfish grin and grabbed his hand, tugging him back to the confessional. He slid the wooden door open and pulled Lance inside, dropping his backpack to the floor with a wet thud. Shiro closed the door behind them and sat in his typical spot on the priest’s bench.

Lance was cramped and dazed, everything happening faster than he could process. But while his mind was slow to the chase, his body was right there, ready for the next step, his eager cock pointing to Shiro like a homing beacon.

“C’mere,” Shiro rasped, pulling Lance onto his lap.

Lance sat awkwardly, Shiro’s cock nudging against his own. It felt so good and so wrong, Lance could only whine as Shiro began to grind his hips up in a slow, perfunctory rhythm. He watched Lance’s expressions like a hawk, noting the subtle changes on his face. The way his lips parted, eyes falling shut. 

“You wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you, Lance?” Shiro asked, hand slipping between their bodies and curling around Lance’s length.

“Yes!” Lance cried. 

“Shhh. Quiet, baby. We don’t want anybody wandering in and hearing you.”

Adrenaline spiked in Lance’s heart and he rutted into Shiro’s palm, hungry for more. He felt like a can of soda that was shaken up and set back on the shelf. The quarantine had been his fridge, and now Shiro was tapping on the lid, flicking the tab back to watch Lance explode.

Shiro undid the belt at Lance’s waist, sliding down his zipper. Lance’s erection sprang free as Shiro tugged his pants down, just enough to expose the curve of his ass.

“Need better access,” Shiro mumbled, his lips brushing Lance’s throat. “Lay across my lap.”

Lance shifted, swinging his leg so he could kneel beside Shiro and stretching out across his lap, his palms pressed against the wooden bench to hold himself steady.

Shiro’s fingers toyed with the waistband of Lance’s underwear, tickling and teasing his crack until they slipped beneath. Lance shivered as a single-digit swiped between his cheeks.

“Shiro?”

“It’s okay, Lance. I’m going to make you feel good.”

Shiro brought his index finger to his lips and pulled it into his mouth, slicking it before returning to the task at hand. Lance tensed as a single, moist fingertip nudged his hole, his teeth chewing his bottom lip. Shiro’s finger slipped inside and Lance winced at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Just relax.”

Shiro took his time moving in and out, getting Lance used to the sensation, working him open. And Lance relaxed beneath Shiro’s touch, melting into the bench, Shiro’s hard-on pressing insistently into Lance’s stomach.

Shiro’s freehand drifted along the perfect globes of Lance’s ass, stroking his skin as he added a second finger. The dueling sensations created chaos in Lance’s veins, his blood rushing, nerves crying out for more.

He keened—a needy, desperate sound—and Shiro answered his call, raising his hand and bringing it down in a resounding slap on Lance’s ass. Before the sting of the pain could sink in, Shiro was tenderly rubbing the abused, pink mark, his other hand still dragging its digits in and out. 

“Did you like that?” Shiro asked, his voice low and raw in a way it hadn’t been earlier in their game.

“Yes,” Lance whimpered, rocking his hips to take more of Shiro’s fingers. 

Shiro hummed appreciatively before delivering another blow, this one to the opposite cheek. He took his time playing with Lance; fingering him and spanking him until he was drooling, scrambling for purchase against the wooden bench as Shiro continued his torture.

“Please!” Lance begged, his cock trapped between their bodies, aching for more. 

Shiro twisted his hand, palm up, and thrust his fingers in and out with devilish speed. Lance sobbed, his body tightening, climbing toward release. But Shiro was no merciful lover. He worked Lance to a frenzy and eased off just before he could climax, depriving him of the pleasure he sought. 

Shiro repeated the process over and over again, until Lance was frantic, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

“Please! Why?” Lance wailed as Shiro slipped his fingers away for the fourth time.

“Aw, what’s the matter, baby? Need something?” Shiro cooed, scissoring his fingers open and dragging them along Lance’s inner walls, languidly pulling them all the way out. “You think because you’re such a pretty little cockslut I should let you come?”

Shiro tugged the waistband of Lance’s underwear, pulling them back into place. His soft ministrations were contradictory to the filthy way he’d taken Lance apart.

“Let me see you, baby,” Shiro instructed, helping Lance back onto his lap.

Lance struggled to seat himself, his pants unzipped, a dark stain forming on his underwear. He scrubbed the tears from his face with his palm, a flush crawling up his throat as Shiro inspected him with his shrewd mercury gaze.

His heavy hands held Lance’s thighs as he slowly began to roll his hips, dragging his thick shaft along Lance’s stiff erection.

“Ahhhh!” Lance shuddered, his nerves frayed, his entire body jittery from overstimulation. 

“What would your classmates say if they could see you right now?” Shiro mused. 

Lance synchronized his movements, dry humping Shiro’s cock with sporadic, desperate thrusts. He tried to urge Shiro faster, but the priest refused to pick up his pace, the methodical, even rise of his hips nowhere near enough to quench Lance’s thirst.

“Please, Shiro. I need more!”

Shiro stilled. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

He trailed a finger along Lance’s cheek. 

“I need– I need–” Lance hiccuped, his body still writhing atop Shiro’s. “I need your cock. Please, please fuck me. Need your cock, Shiro. Please, please, please.”

Shiro swiped Lance’s mouth with his thumb, pressing it between Lance’s lips. Lance suckled greedily, moaning as his tongue swirled around the digit. 

“You beg so nice,” Shiro said, stilling his hips. “Your ass is so tight, I want to stretch it open. See you swallow me whole.”

Lance couldn’t concentrate on Shiro’s thumb when his entire body was pleading for release. His mouth went slack, drool dribbling from the corner as Shiro continued to whisper all of the terrible things he wanted to do. What a good boy Lance was.

“How do you keep this a secret from the rest of my congregation? They have no idea what a twisted fuck you are, so thirsty for my cock. What would they say if they could see how pathetic you look now?”

Shiro’s mocking tone sent a wave of shame rolling through Lance, but it only made him harder. He reached between them to touch himself, but Shiro snatched away his hands, pinning them to Lance’s sides. 

“I don’t think so. Sluts can’t come unless they’re told.”

It was so wrong and so filthy and so fucking hot, Lance couldn’t take it. He felt his body shrink in on itself, the tension pulling him too taught. Lance was expecting the rush of an orgasm, but instead, he could feel warm piss dribble from his over-ripe cock. 

“That’s it,” Shiro said, not phased one bit as Lance’s still-damp pants moistened anew. “Can’t hold it back, can you, baby? Such a good slut for me.”

Lance was crying, covered in his piss, and still pent up from Shiro’s hands and words. He glanced down, noting the hard-on Shiro was sporting.

“Can I suck you off?” Lance said.

He started to drop to his knees but Shiro stopped him.

“I don’t think so. You gotta earn this dick, baby.”

Lance pouted as Shiro pulled him to his feet. 

“W-What do you mean? How am I supposed to earn it?”

Shiro chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Now, in the meantime, I believe you have a kitchen full of dishes to clean.”

Lance’s mouth popped open and he stared at Shiro as he stepped out of the confessional.

“Oh, and do try to find something dry to put on,” Shiro said, looking back over his shoulder. “Don’t want you...dripping on the carpets.”

He winked and left Lance standing alone in the confessional, shivering and soiled and horny out of his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! And for suspending your disbelief re: the pandemic XD
> 
> [Pink Contrail](https://twitter.com/pinkontrail)   
>  [Nihilist Shiro](https://twitter.com/NihilistShiro)


End file.
